Remember
by A Fading Shadow
Summary: Innocence is easily lost on the island, but how drastically does that affect one's future? How horribly can it affect one's mind? One boy remembers....


A/N: This was actually written as a school assignment: 'What do you think would happen next in one of the character's lives?' I sort of...went a little further in time on that, but I hopeI will recieve a good grade. Myteacher doesn't even understand proper English even though she majored in it so I'm actually planning to fail in her class.

Anyway, enough of my griping. If you really want to read this, go ahead.

* * *

It all began on that island. The place has seemed so insignificant when they had left it on that ship, but now he knew it had made an impact upon him. It had taught him how to be afraid...to be afraid for his life. 

He still remembered the naval officer who had stood at the beach looking at all the boys like they had come from another planet. They probably did look like that, with all the dirt, blood, long hair, tears, and just about everything else.

He still remembered the voyage on that ship. It had been a battleship and couldn't return to England to drop off a few boys. Instead, each child was given a duty. Most of the jobs they recieved were just something simple like washing dishes or mopping the decks. He, however, had somthing a bit tougher to do. His task was to take ammunition to the gunners in the battles (and there were many) that took place. He later found out that the reason he had this peculiar job was that the last 'runner' had been taken clear off the deck by enemy fire.

He didn't like to remember any of that. All he wanted to do was forget the flaming plane as it crashed, the whole ordeal on the island, and the battles on that huge ship. All of it was worse than any other form of psychological torture.

He still remembered the return to England. So many parents were waiting at the harbor after they had heard that almost all of the boys had survived. Simon's parents were there looking desperately for their son,only to never find them. Piggy's aunt was there crying her eyes outwhen one of the boys told herthat hernephew had died.

He could still recall the look of joy on his mother's face and his father's stiff, unfeeling one. All his mother cared about was that her son had come back to her...and all father could think of is how poorly he had conducted himself at the island. He thought it was his son's fault that some of the other boys hadn't made it, but after everything that had happened, he couldn't care less. He was home and he didn't want to leave ever again.

It was almost ironic when he did leave. He couldn't stand it anymore, the utter calm of peace, the lack of understanding of what the human mind was capable of. He left for America to get away from the people that didn't _just get it _that sometimes you had to fight for your life. He'd left on the soonest voyage he could, ten years after the island.

When he had entered the new country for the first time whole new options were open to him. He could have gone to a big city! Or he could even have gone west, where cowboys and shootouts were common! Chicago called to him, however, so he set out. Five years later he made it to the huge city and joined a gang. They didn't do things just to do bad, they stole, they lied, they even killed to survive. He was used to that already and fit in perfectly.

Eventually he found out the truth when they found him trustworthy enough. He was told that the small gang he was in now was actually part of a larger syndicate that practically ruled the town. It just so happened that another higher-up group needed a new member and all of his new friends recommended that he join the group. He did just that.

This new group was awful. They would go out and kill specific people in the city (and anybody who was in their way) and later they would be paid huge sums of money. He didn't care. This was where he fit in! Why should he have cared?

His infamy grew quickly and he supposed he was a little to arrogant at times. One of these times, it caused him to be caught. That's why he's here now, in this square white room with a bed and a sink but nothing else. He didn't care about any of that. They could call him insane and hold him captive all his life! He was content. He had let the 'crazy' side out, just like before.

Maybe he shouldn't have run to the group in the last few moments before the naval officer started out to the ship. Maybe he should have stayed in hiding, stayed on his island. The other boys hadn't been tough enough to kill, to hunt, to murder, so why did he care if they left?

It was too late now, and Jack didn't care anymore.

He just...remembered.


End file.
